


Refuge

by Xanateria



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-21
Updated: 2012-10-21
Packaged: 2017-11-16 18:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/542268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xanateria/pseuds/Xanateria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of what happens after you think the worst has happened. Draco Malfoy survived the war but still managed to lose his life. Harry Potter finds out the hard way that the end of a war doesn’t always mean peace. Both of them go looking to rebuild in unlikely places, but they say unexpected happiness tastes all the sweeter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Refuge

**Author's Note:**

> Written for HD_fan_fair on Livejournal. No animals were harmed in this story, not even the ones who inspired the four-footed secondary characters. Thanks to rainbow_goddess for the beta read. Any remaining mistakes should be blamed on grammar and punctuation gremlins.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Father had all these grand plans for the family and for me. I’m all but certain he had my life completely mapped out before I could walk. Despite what so many of my colleagues and enemies have to say about it, I didn’t care for any of his ideas, but that didn’t matter. My opinions meant less than nothing to him. A good son doesn’t have feelings about anything. He simply goes along with whatever is best for his parents and his family. 

I was a right little shit. It’s easier to see that now. Fear and arrogance are not an attractive combination. Father instilled a deep sense of my own superiority in me right along with all of his other supposed ideals. And I wasn’t just scared of disappointing him; I was petrified right down to the bone. Failure was punished immediately and severely in my household. No excuses, no reasoning, nothing but what father called carefully selected teaching. Carefully restrained violence more like it, and the only real care involved came when he made sure not to cause permanent injury or any damage that couldn’t be hidden with a glamour, since he never allowed me any healing afterward. 

Once, Mother was unwise enough to slip me a healing potion after a particularly vicious beating. When Father caught her as she slipped into my room, he held Cruciatus on her and explained while it was inappropriate for him to raise a hand to her physically, there were alternatives. This was all about two months before my tenth birthday. An early lesson, but I learned it very well. There would be no help from my mother. She couldn’t even help herself.

Much as I disliked Father’s plans for me, I went along with them. It wasn’t all terrible, and I told myself the ends justified the means, so long as I survived. But the longer the war dragged on, the more I realized I couldn’t be the person he wanted. I enjoy my luxuries, I have no patience for stupidity, I can be petty, and I much prefer to get my own way. I believe those without magic pose a great danger to witches and wizards everywhere. But I did not enjoy cruelty for its own sake, and I couldn’t see any logic in hating a group of people because a madman told me to. Most of all, I didn’t want to be a murderer. Bad enough I’d been an indirect participant in several murders. It was only a matter of time before I would be expected to prove myself. There was only one way to do that with Voldemort and his followers.

As the days marched closer to the first anniversary of the war, I should have been in the midst of my final year at Hogwarts. Instead, I was trapped in a series of Death Eater raids that were turning me into someone I didn’t recognize. I collapsed on the bed in the suite assigned to me in our latest hideout, a sumptuous estate Voldemort had restored, as he called it, from the Muggle owners. I knew I wouldn’t sleep, but I did my best to stop thinking, and stared at the ceiling. 

The knock at my door jolted me, and dread curled in my stomach. I rose and let Severus in, then settled back on the bed, careful to keep my face impassive. I mastered that skill early as well, so even though I wanted to retch at the thought of what he was there to ask me to do I only raised an eyebrow in question.  


It doesn’t say a lot about my intelligence, but what he had to say instead caught me completely by surprise. The privacy spells he cast were stronger than anything I had ever seen, and as soon as he started speaking I could see why. I never would have guessed he was working for the other side; that he had been for so many years. The fact he wanted me to do the same was an even bigger shock. 

I argued against it, at first because I thought he was insane to be taking such risks, and later because I didn’t see how it would help me survive, which was my ultimate goal. But among other things, my erstwhile godfather is a very persuasive man. Added to that, I recognized the wisdom of not making the same mistakes he did, especially when he made them so clear as we talked.

In the months after that conversation I learned a great deal from him, and from other carefully selected members of those on the side of the light. Dumbledore showed no surprise when Severus brought me to the meeting with him. He thanked me for my efforts, which felt awkward, but I shrugged it off, focused on the business at hand. I never asked who else knew about my efforts. I figured it would be safer. 

If this were a fairytale, this would be the part where I got my happily ever after – possibly even lauded as a hero for my contributions to the victory efforts. But my life isn’t a tale. No one cared about what I might have done. Once he was well enough to speak, Severus testified at the Tribunal about the lives I had saved with the information I had brought to him or to Dumbledore — the witches, wizards and Muggles I rescued. But his reputation was as tarnished as mine, and Dumbledore was gone. So many people were gone, and those left behind were broken by grief. 

I know this because I was one of them. Mother was killed during the Siege of Hogsmeade. I tried to see her safe, but I was too late by a scant handful of minutes. Father fell during the Battle of Hogwarts. I was there, but I didn’t try to save him. Still, you can’t prepare for being an orphan, for how adrift you feel. Perhaps that explains how unprepared I was when public grief turned to white hot anger. No one listened to explanations. They heard my last name, saw my father when they looked at me and called for my head, preferably on a tasteful silver platter. 

I couldn’t go out in public, couldn’t even really go outside. Jeers, catcalls and all manner of jinxes and hexes followed me if I did. Howlers, and worse, arrived daily. If I had been able to go out in safety, there wouldn’t have been anywhere to go. Every door I tried was firmly closed to me. I couldn’t decide what was worse: dodging hexes, or being ignored so completely I wondered if I’d been rendered invisible.

A few days later, the Tribunal called me in to hear their verdict. Malfoy Manor would be seized as reparations, along with a portion of our fortune. They would have taken all of it, and likely seen me stripped of magic and exiled I bet, but another witness had testified about my work for Dumbledore. I couldn’t imagine who it would have been, but it didn’t really matter. The resources left to me meant I didn’t need to stay trapped in a world that so clearly wished me harm.  


For once, I didn’t have a plan. I had no idea where I would land or what exactly I would do when I got there. But wherever it was, it would be better staying in a world that had no place for me.

***

By the end of the war, I knew we would win, but I didn’t really expect to be around to witness it, what with having to sacrifice myself. The whole hoarcrux thing turned into a nightmare, but I didn’t mind dying nearly as much as I thought I would. My whole life, the fact that I lived came across more as a mistake than anything else, no matter what my friends had to say about it. The price for my life was too high before I could toddle. Easy enough to see why I lived on borrowed time.

Or so I thought. Here we are in peacetime, and I’m still here. I’d be happier about that, but some things never change. The price was way too high. We lost so many great people, so many friends and loved ones who would never come home. 

Even worse, the violence didn’t end with Voldemort’s death. Mere days after the final battle the remaining top officials on the side of the light convened what they called the Tribunal. They appointed themselves, and then promptly named themselves, judge, jury and, in many cases, executioner for any Death Eaters still at large, even those who asked to surrender. Before long they also included those who aided any Death Eaters, and they didn’t care about the circumstances or ask about pesky things like proof. 

They may have started out with good intentions. That didn’t change the fact that those who’d fought against Voldemort and all he stood for saw nothing wrong with unleashing their own vengeance. It was justice, they claimed. Like that made it right to torture and kill when there had already been so much death.  


The whole thing appalled me. I couldn’t keep quiet about it, and I probably should have. Turns out the world wasn’t ready for a Harry Potter who wasn’t the good soldier, the perfect beacon of light or whatever it was they all figured I should be. 

I went to so many funerals, got so tired of saying goodbye to friends and comrades. And those I didn’t lose, well, when they say war changes a person, they’re right. The hardest was Hermione. She saved so many children, but we thought for sure she would die, between the crush injuries, the spell damage and the fact it took so long to get help to her. Somehow she pulled through, but her recovery was so awful there were days when she wondered if it was a blessing or another curse, and I couldn’t blame her. The after effects of the various curses meant that much of her healing was impaired and many of the magical remedies wouldn’t work. She had to relearn how to do everything on her own — walking, talking, thinking, everything. 

The families of the children she saved sent tokens and visited often. The rest of the Weasleys found time, even in the midst of their own grief, to sit with her. Everyone did their best, but we nearly lost her a half dozen times, and by the time she was on the mend her brightness was just gone — snuffed out by pain and nightmares, by the lists of those lost she insisted we read to her. I told myself that given what she went through, it’s natural she wanted retribution. But it still shocked me when she supported the Tribunal. 

I could tell it bothered Ron, but he didn’t say it. It cost him, but he stayed quiet. I wanted to scream at both of them, but I didn’t. Who was I to judge what they needed to get them through? When I heard that Draco was to be brought up on his charges, though, I told both of them I needed to clear my head and Apparated to the Ministry building they’d commandeered. The officious man on the door who thought I was there to testify against Draco, all but danced to let me in. I insisted I couldn’t speak unless what I said was under silence; My testimony would only be heard only after a binding secrecy spell that would ensure no one outside the room would know what I said, and no one who heard it could discuss it. The records would be sealed and accessible only to myself and the Tribunal head, and none of us would be able to share it publicly.

They accepted my terms, no doubt convinced I wanted to tell them about such atrocities I thought the public needed to be protected or some other rubbish. I admit, when Snape first told us Draco had changed sides I thought he’d finally gone round the bend.

In the months that followed, I came to admire the sheer guts it must have taken to turn his back on pretty much his whole life. Besides, he was a decent enough sort, when he wasn’t being an ass. I couldn’t leave him to the wolves, not when I knew exactly how many people he’d saved and what it cost him. 

After I said what I’d come to say, even I was a bit shocked at how intense it all was, but it worked. The Tribunal didn’t call for his life, his magic, or every penny he would ever have. I toyed with the idea of asking to see him, but I worried he would hate me for saving him. Things are complicated when you have that much history. It hit me as I left; right then was the first time I felt anything other than disgust or numbness in days. I didn’t have the strength to try and reform the Wizarding World, but if I tried to live in it as it was now, it was only a matter of time before I lost even more of myself. I couldn’t stay.

***

Some days you just know are going to be an exercise in patience. For instance, early on Wednesday I woke up late because I’d stayed up far too late researching my latest case. The power went off in the night, so of course the bloody alarm didn’t go off. Muggle technology hated me from the off, and today was no different. Still, I wanted to blend in, and more importantly, I wanted to be left alone, so no apparating for me, except in a dire emergency. One of the first things I did once I adjusted to the Muggle world was get my driver’s licence. Fat lot of good it did me, though, because the stupid car wouldn’t start. The town has exactly two cabs, and I had to wait for one of them so long, I probably should have walked.

Luckily for all concerned, Moira had coffee on when I finally made it into the clinic and handed me a cup when I went past her on my way to the kennels. She knew better than to expect me to talk to her before I’d finished my first cup, especially buried up to my eyeballs in a complicated problem.  
When I first settled in Greentree I had no plans to stay. I travelled a lot those first few years after I completed my education in veterinary medicine. I couldn’t outrun my memories, but I gave it a better go than you might think. There was nowhere in all of Great Britain that didn’t have absolutely terrible associations. Small wonder I developed a taste for travel.

I tried America because it seemed logical, but I didn’t care for the cities I passed though. There were too many recent arrivals from my side of the pond, and added to that, Wizarding America was dealing with its own tendencies toward violence and unrest that made me nervous. I left that behind for very good reasons, and I didn’t want to accidentally walk into some stupid feud and end up drawn back in. Besides, there was no way to know if public distaste for all things Malfoy had spread this far, and no way of disguising yourself is foolproof, no matter what people might tell you. 

Still, if someone had told me I would eventually make my home in a small town all but at the end of nowhere in Canada, I would have suggested medical help. It surprised me just how well I managed to adapt to the lifestyle. I cheated a little, but only a little, since escaping notice didn’t work so well if you leaned toward flashy. Most of the residents accepted me, which was still a novelty for me. It helped that the area’s vet had retired the year before and none of the candidates they’d tried to lure into employment were interested once they actually saw Greentree. I moved into old Doctor Laurence’s house and took over his clinic as Dr. Drake DeMarco, the name I’d chosen for my Muggle identity. By the end of my first day I even inherited his secretary, Moira Bannion. She’d only planned to stay for a few days to see that I settled in but changed her mind when she saw how hopeless I was with the Muggle electronics.

Adjustment is easier when you get your place all but handed to you. I still felt like an imposter for a while. The good doctor himself stopped by at the end of my second month, which didn’t help. But he was surprisingly nice about everything and had practical advice for making the changes I had in mind. Even better, the holdouts who weren’t sure about me changed their tune after his visit made it clear I had his stamp of approval.

I socialize at town wide events, which allows me to make friends — after a fashion, anyway. I don’t date, because it’s easier, and I’ve yet to meet anyone who seems worth the effort. I like the idea of choosing my own potential partners without the emphasis on breeding, wealth or status. I still have standards, though, and no one comes even close to meeting them, male or female. Granted, I confined most of my looking to the women in town, since I really had no idea if the Muggle world had progressed beyond their often narrow-minded view of sexual relations.

Besides, after the last of my time in the Wizarding world, I most often choose company I can trust not to judge me. It’s a cliché, really, the vet who ends up with a whole menagerie, but I can understand it. I prefer the company of my patients to most people. There are several simple spells to talk to most animals. Muggles may think Dr. Doolittle is fiction, but his real name was Doolin, and he specialized in them. I don’t use them because they are quite flashy and among the most trackable. Besides, in my experience, if you pay attention, every species can tell you plenty without them.

Unfortunately, Medea, the patient I most needed to speak to me that way, was too sick to even try. Two years old and usually full of the gentle mischief Samoyeds were known for, she began having seizures two days ago, and we rapidly ruled out all the usual causes. No signs of tumour, encephalitis, or abscess. The levels on her blood work for calcium and sugars were exactly where they should be. Her owners had her vaccinations current, fed her a decent pet food, and cared for her as though she were a beloved dog, and not a child, which was better for her in the long run. Her illness made no sense, but she was getting sicker.  


Once I checked on all our current patients and finished my coffee, I dove into my research with renewed determination that likely would have made my former schoolmates gape in shock. I never was much for anything resembling work then. I suppose I lacked proper motivation. It’s difficult to love learning when fear overlays everything you do. After enough hours staring at the blasted computer screen to make my eyes ache, no answered presented themselves. I turned away from my desk before I could give in to the urge to hit something —childish, perhaps, but satisfying at the time.

Rather than give in to my destructive impulses, I reached for the notes I’d taken about the household during the initial and follow-up interviews with her owners. They’d done no recent travelling, hadn’t changed detergents, and to their knowledge didn’t store any substances that could be harmful to any animal. The only hobby they pursued at home was gardening, and all the pesticides were locked in a shed that was properly secured at all times. 

The page in front of me blurred for a moment. I all but had it memorized, so I didn’t really need to see it. And I believed what they told me. The missing piece was right in front of me. It had to be, and I’d missed it. When it hit me, cold snaked down my spine. I lunged for the phone, my usual discomfort with it forgotten. 

By the end of the day, Medea was on the mend, now properly treated for accidental poisoning thanks to the garden mulch her owners used in the yard. They’d used the same brand of cocoa mulch for years without any problem, or so they thought. Apparently their four-footed companion had developed a taste for it early on, and the cumulative amounts of the problem chemical had finally reached the toxicity threshold. 

Between the treatment for the poisoning and my scheduled appointments, I wanted nothing more than a quiet supper and my bed. The end of the day had made up for the rocky beginning, but that didn’t make me less exhausted. 

About to ask Moira if she could drop me at home, I stopped, and managed not to groan. In addition to my time at the clinic, I also volunteered time to several of the local animal rescue organizations. This far from the city, they were vital to the well-being of the animal population. Tonight was my night at Simon’s Haven. The Simon family had lived in the area for generations and ran a successful horse farm that was also a sanctuary for many abused, injured or unwanted animals, domestic pets and wildlife alike. From what I understand, Alicia, the matriarch of the family, came from family money that spanned back generations, which explained how they managed the day-to-day expenses. She’d taken a liking to me when I first came to town. Somehow, when she gave me a direct look and told me she had a soft spot for lost people, I couldn’t find it within me to even pretend offense. 

Pride and my innate stubbornness woke me up enough knock on the front door of the farm house after Moira dropped me off and zipped back down the drive. For a responsible woman, she was surprisingly cavalier about driving far too quickly.

Alicia answered the door after only a second or two, her smile wide and laughter in her eyes. “Hello, Drake. I’m so glad you could make it. I hear you had a very exciting day.” She paused to take a second look at me and then turned to call to her husband in the kitchen. 

“Wes, get Drake a plate. He looks about ready to drop and likely hasn’t had what could be called a meal today.” 

Too used to her ways, and fond of her cooking to argue, I let myself be led into the bright, cheerful kitchen, with the buttery yellow paint and gleaming copper pots so at odds with the top-of-the-line kitchen appliances.

***

I never saw myself as a farm hand, but that was the latest on my employment list. I kept a list in my head so I could keep from trying the same thing too many times. My parents saw to it I didn’t need to work; I had more than enough money. When I decided to see more of the Muggle world, it just sort of happened. America was enough of an unknown it seemed a good place to start. I caught a flight to Arizona because I liked the idea of sunny and warm. The first restaurant I walked into in Phoenix lost their cook as I came in. He stormed out in a temper after a patron sent a cold dish back.

Life with the Dursleys meant I learned my way around the kitchen, so I offered to help. What I didn’t know, I made up as I went along. I cheated a few times, when I had no other option and was sure I wouldn’t get caught. I didn’t much care if the Ministry knew I was using magic, especially since I’d already learned ways around the most invasive tracking spells they used. Still, I wasn’t keen on traumatising some innocent Muggle or having to brush up on my Obliviate.  


After cook, I was a librarian, a sales clerk, a park nature trail interpreter, an assistant florist, and a house cleaner. When I tired of house cleaning, I had planned to go to Vancouver and try to land a position at the aquarium. I liked the idea of visiting with all the different animals, even if I had already figured I wasn’t much for the public, especially tourists.

My rental car didn’t care what my plan was and conked out a few miles outside of the small town of Greentree. As luck would have it, a car drove past as I trudged my way along the edge of the narrow highway. That’s how I met Alicia Simon, who not only helped me track down the town’s only mechanic and convinced him not to gouge me, but invited me to dinner. I helped out with the evening chores that night to say thank you and she offered me a job on her farm.

“You know how to work hard — that’s as plain as day — and you like animals. You already said your only real goal is to travel. We won’t keep you any longer than you want to stay. What’s more, we’ll give you a letter of reference you can take with you when you leave.” Even then I could see Alicia wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, or go after what she wanted.

If nothing else, the war and its aftermath taught me to trust my instincts. Everything in me said the farm was a good place with good people. Alicia and Wes and their three children all worked hard to make the farm and the animal refuge thrive. I liked the idea of helping people who were so committed to making their world better. After another moment to think, I accepted. I hoped working there would help me atone for all the people I’d failed to save.

Given a choice, I alternated farm chores, in the horse barn mostly, with time in the cattery. All told they had horses, cats, dogs, a handful of injured raptors, some failed petting zoo refugees that included fancy chickens, fainting goats and rabbits, miniature horses, donkeys, and most recently, a llama. I never knew from one day to the next what my job for the day would entail, but that appealed to me, in its own way.

After nearly a month at the Haven, as they all called it, I’d built up some muscle and even managed a tan. Austin, the oldest at nearly sixteen, asked me if I wanted to lift weights with him in their home gym, but I didn’t see the point, since I wasn’t trying to impress a girl like he was.

Most nights I ate in the main house, though I stayed in one of the staff cabins, despite the fact I’d tried to tell Alicia that a bed in the bunkhouse was more than enough. She told me she felt better with a responsible young man keeping an eye on the cabin and that was that. It was probably for the best. This way I didn’t wake anyone else when I had nightmares, and didn’t have to be so closely on guard all the time about accidental magic.

Some of the magic I had to tap into during the war changed me in ways I didn’t expect. Like if I was particularly exhausted or emotional, my magical energy would spill over, unless I exerted myself to control it. Little things — my tea would re-heat itself, or my book would bring itself to me. Nothing harmful or aggressive, but it still would have caused problems.

When I let myself in the back door and stepped into the kitchen, Abby launched herself at me. Nothing was wrong, thankfully; she just liked to do that at random times. Lucky for me she’s small for her age, and only three. 

“Hi, Hawwy,” she exclaimed, face buried in my sweater.

“Hi, Munchkin.” I dropped into my chair with her still attached. I’d gotten good at navigating with an Abby growth. “What did you do today?”

I listened carefully while she chattered with me about preschool and the chores she’d managed with her mom’s help. No matter where I was or who I was with, I remembered how it felt to be a non-person, so much smaller than everyone else, with no one who cared enough about me to actually hear me. The way I saw it, if I helped prevent that, I helped make the world better.

Adrian had dinner duty tonight, which meant I wouldn’t need to help. At thirteen he was in an "I can do everything myself" phase. We got along well, but not so well he could abandon his quest to prove himself to the rest of the world. 

Wes and Alicia hadn’t come in yet, still in the main barn with one of the brood mares who was sick. By the time they made it in, everything was ready. Even the table was set. The meal was typical for the Simon household: loud and chaotic, with only the barest attempt at table manners. All of them could have manners not even Aunt Petunia could argue with, but their parents only insisted on it when they had company. 

When Alicia brought out a cheesecake, I stopped musing about the family dynamic and tucked in. The woman makes a phenomenal dessert. She reminded us all that the town’s new vet was expected just after supper. Apparently he donated his time to take care of the rescue animals, which was more than his predecessor managed due to failing health.

The knock on the door jolted me, even though I expected it. I couldn’t have said why, but for just an instant, while I listened to Alicia answer the door, everything stopped. Something big was about to happen, and my instincts couldn't tell if it was good or bad. 

I heard Alicia ask Wes to get him a plate. Though part of me still wanted to slip out the door, I stayed in my chair and kept my eyes on the last of my cheesecake. Then I caught a flash of white blond hair, and my head jerked up. 

“Draco?” 

I almost didn’t believe my own eyes. From heir of one of the oldest Wizarding families to small-town veterinarian made no sense. Then again, I suppose neither did the Boy Who Lived Twice to farm hand in rural Canada. 

Draco fit into the Muggle world better than I expected. His jeans were new, and the dark green sweater looked like cashmere, but he still managed to look regal. In that instant I catalogued all the differences: shorter hair that fell only to just over his collar, tiny lines at the corner of his eyes and mouth, and a jagged scar across the back of his left hand. 

I knew firsthand how well versed he was in hiding his emotions, but he couldn’t completely disguise his shock. Beneath that, I thought I saw happiness, but I didn’t know him well enough to be sure. 

“I was about to introduce you, but I see that isn’t necessary,” Alicia commented. She didn’t ask any of the questions I could see in her eyes. I almost wanted to tell her —almost. 

Once I got over my shock, I managed to exchange pleasantries. I explained that the two of us knew each other from our school days, and shrugged off his real name as a boarding school nickname. The whole family was curious, but before they could question either of us, Alicia sent the children to the barn and gently suggested we go to my cabin to talk. 

It’s a very good thing my feet knew the way to my cabin, because my mind raced with all of the possibilities, while my magic fluctuated wildly, woken up by such close proximity to another Wizard. 

In the living room of the cabin, Draco and I stared at each other for a long moment, perched on opposite ends of the overstuffed sofa. 

“I heard you left,” he commented, after a few false starts.

“No one could decide if you’d left or just gone into seclusion on one of the family properties,” I replied, while I tried not to think of all the times I considered looking for him. 

That raised another problem, one I decided to address right away. “Draco, I’m not here because I wanted to find you. This really is another of the strange coincidences of my life.”

I kept my tone matter of fact and smiled, pleased when some of the tension I saw in him dissipated.

***

“I suppose old habits die hard, if I’m still worried about that,” I admitted. “But I didn’t really stick around long enough to see how much worse the public opinion got. I must say, it’s refreshing to see a wizard who isn’t screeching a hex, ranting about the evils behind the Malfoy name, or flinging a jinx.”

“I could try one out for old time’s sake,” Harry suggested.

“Why don’t we see how it goes?” 

The quick laugh I got in response made me smile slightly. The banter was familiar, and surprisingly enjoyable. Not only had I left behind the old hurts, and the petty jealousies, I had absolutely no desire to pick them up again. 

Relaxed on the end of a truly terrible sofa, I watched Harry make coffee in the small kitchen area. “So, should I ask how on Earth you ended up here, or did you want me to answer that one first? 

Mugs in hand, Harry returned to the couch and quirked an eyebrow at me. “How you got here doesn’t interest me as much as why you decided to go to veterinary school.”

“It turns out I have a talent for it. I’ve always enjoyed doing things I do well, as I am sure you know. What may surprise you is that I didn’t care for the life of the idle rich. Doing nothing eventually bored me. Added to that, there was no guarantee the Tribunal or the Ministry wouldn’t change their mind and seize more, or even all, of my family assets. Self-preservation is another strong suit of mine, so I needed an income that couldn’t be taken from me.”

“That makes sense.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Harry. You of all people should know how determined I can be.”

We laughed together again, and the last of the awkwardness melted away. The conversation stretched on for another hour or so, but then, even with coffee, I yawned wide enough to crack my jaw exhaustion weighted down my limbs, but part of me didn’t want to call a halt to the evening.

It turned out I wasn’t the only one. Over the next few weeks we took managed several more meals together, and often talked far into the evening. I learned about Harry’s many attempted careers and encouraged him when he confessed he wanted to go to law school. Though we’d talked about major events in the Wizarding world, neither of us wanted to go back. We couldn’t even face the idea of extended visits, so it made sense to plan for a different future. Harry was more optimistic that things would get better, but he wanted to work as a family advocate . I watched him with the Simon children and could easily see him helping children who weren’t so lucky and didn’t have a loving home and family.

Not long after that conversation, we planned to spend one of my rare days off together. Instead, Harry drove me out to help a horse with colic. My patient was out of danger by the time we left, but I was filthy and sore from the whole thing. The whole day was a nightmare, but things were better because Harry was with me. And therein lay the problem. He made no secret of his new nomadic lifestyle. The old me would have picked a fight to deal with my anger. The new me was too exhausted to fight. 

Leave it to the Boy Who Lived Twice to see through my mask of calm. He picked at it until I snapped.

“I just don’t think we should make a habit of this sort of thing. I’ll just get used to having you around and you’ll be gone.” By this point, we’d pulled to a stop in front of my house, which was good, since I wanted to look at him while I shouted.

“What if I wasn’t?” Harry asked quietly. “I thought I could stay here, apply to law schools in the area."

I probably should have thought about the dirt all over me, or how much the thought of a relationship scared me, or who might see us. Instead, I leaned over and kissed him.

***

It was late when I got back to the house, but I found my way to the bedroom easily in the dim light of the lamps Harry left on for me. He’d fallen asleep drafting a brief, I could tell by the legal pad covered in notes. The man refuses to write on a laptop if he can help it. Tristan and Isolde watched me quietly, tongues lolling in a canine smile, as I shucked off my clothes and dropped them in the hamper. Tristan pressed up against as much of Harry as he could, while his sister sprawled over as much of my side as possible.

Why anyone would abandon a beautiful pair of golden retrievers I couldn’t say, but it was a good day when they were well enough to bring home and add to our menagerie. They were just about done growing into their feet and completely devoted to me. It’s nice to be adored occasionally. The cats certainly didn’t feel the need to do much more than tolerate us. This late, there was a pile of black, grey and orange fur at the end of the bed, draped over and around Harry’s feet. Lucky he doesn’t move much once he drops off, or Theseus and Achilles would risk launch. Houdini and Copperfield were missing, but they liked to play chase at night, so that was probably for the best. Besides, they’d find places on the bed eventually. 

I upset all of the animals when I climbed in, because I needed space on my side, but I was too happy to be in bed to care. I spared a thought to worry that Harry might have fallen asleep before he checked on the birds and the rabbits, but then I shook my head. He’d have fed them before he dove into work, on the off chance he lost track of time. 

He was thoughtful that way, even though he liked to tease me that I wasted all of my consideration on my patients. Case in point? My skin was chilled from the drizzle outside, but Harry drew me closer, even half asleep. My life didn’t turned out at all like I expected, but that’s alright. It turned out far better.

*FIN*


End file.
